Back Into the Flames
by Kyra Renee
Summary: What in the hell had he been thinking? Well, that was the problem, actually. The problem was that he hadn't been thinking at all. He had jumped headfirst without bothering to hold his breath and already he could feel himself drowning...
1. Chapter 1

_I volunteer as tribute._

The words had left his mouth before he could stop them and the hush that fell over the crowd was even more eerie that it had ever been before. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears and the uneven and ragged breathing coming from his own lungs. Their eyes burned into him like the heat of a thousand suns and for a moment he wondered if perhaps facing an arena full of bloodthirsty victors would be so bad compared to this.

Finally, the silence had been broken by Effie clearing her throat and he could feel the white hot anger rolling off of Peeta Mellark in violent waves. He didn't dare turn his head, not even a centimeter. For the first time in a very long time, Haymitch Abernathy felt uncomfortable.

That had been three whole hours ago and even now, his skin still burned. His face was hot and he had spent a good ten minutes trying to drown himself in the icy cold sink water, splashing it onto his cheeks and contorting his body just enough to shove his head beneath the faucet. None of it had worked and now he sat on the edge of his bed with a half-empty bottle of champagne in one hand and a damp towel in the other.

What in the hell had he been thinking? Well, that was the problem, actually. The problem was that he hadn't been thinking at all. He had jumped headfirst without bothering to hold his breath and already he could feel himself drowning. His lungs ached from the effort it took to breathe and his limbs were numb. He flexed his fingers around the neck of the bottle, securing his grip on the cool glass. The bottle was one thing he knew damn well he could – and would – never let go of. That was his security blanket and the only thing that kept him afloat…for now.

Haymitch brought the champagne to his lips to took another long swig, frowning as the sweet liquid spilled over his tongue and filled his mouth. He forced it down with a dramatic swallow and made a face. It was too bubbly and too sweet. He preferred something with a little less sugar and a lot more alcohol. He supposed he could resort to downing the mouthwash or something equally as pathetic, but he would save that for when he was truly desperate, which wouldn't be long if he kept this up.

A knock sounded on his door and before he could even clear his throat to answer, it flew open and he blinked at the silhouette looming in his doorway. He rolled his eyes, exasperated long before she even began her barrage of insults and he lifted the towel to dab half-heartedly at the bottom of his hair.

"Come in," his words were laced with heavy sarcasm and he exhaled as the door closed behind her. She planned to draw this out and he looked up, steeling himself for the blow.

Her round face was twisted into a look of pure disappointment and even as he searched for the anger and hatred in her grey eyes, he found that he could find none. That cut him far deeper than her words ever could and his shoulders sagged forward in obvious defeat.

"Why would you do that?" Her voice was barely above a whisper and he flinched as if she had just lashed out and struck him hard against the cheek.

"You asked me to-"

"I know I did," she cut him off, running a hand over her hair as she looked towards the ceiling. "I didn't expect to feel so guilty about it," Katniss admitted quietly.

"Well, I hate to break it to you but the damage has already been done. Guilt or no guilt, I can't turn around and take it back," he drained the remaining contents from the bottle and tossed it to the floor, watching as it rolled beneath a chair and came to a rest against the leg.

"Peeta is-"

"Furious? Enraged?" Haymitch arched an eyebrow as he forced himself to his feet, taking an extra moment to regain his balance before stepping towards her. "I know and I'm sure he'll be happy to sink his teeth in me the first chance he gets. But he'll get over it," the man shrugged.

"No, he won't. He wants to protect me. He's…" Katniss trailed off and looked towards the floor.

"Alright, maybe he won't. Either way, it doesn't matter. He can still keep you safe. He just has to work a little harder," Haymitch spared her the long-winded explanation. He had kept them both alive – for the most part. Sure, the majority of the credit went to Miss Everdeen and her complete disregard for the rules. But it had worked in his favor and his ability to milk the sponsors had given her the push she had needed.

They wouldn't get so lucky the second time around. The Quarter Quell was designed to eliminate them and preserve the power of the Capitol. It didn't take a genius to put those pieces of the puzzle together. With a rebellion on the horizon, Haymitch knew where he stood and he knew his role. His job was to keep Katniss alive at all costs and if keeping her alive meant also keeping Peeta alive, then that was exactly what he would do.

He moved past her to rummage through his things, searching for another bottle. He was going to need to pump himself full long enough to get him through at least one day in the arena. The other days he would have to take in stride, crossing each bridge as he came to them. It was too much to hope that they would humor him and drop a crate full of liquor at the start, he would have taken that before a weapon any day. But he knew better. They would take pleasure in his suffering, in all of their suffering. His lips twisted into a heavy scowl and he grumbled something incoherent under his breath.

"Thank you, Haymitch," her words caused him to pause and his spine went rigid as he straightened up, staring blankly at the wall across from him. Thank you. She had no reason to thank him and he didn't deserve her gratitude for much of anything at all. He had been her mentor and a companion when no one else was around on a few rare occasions. He had never been anything more and even then he had done a piss poor job at both of those things.

"For…what?" It was a stupid question and he turned around slowly, watching her stand awkwardly in the center of the room.

"I know you don't want to go back, but-"

"You don't know anything, kid," he was defensive and he looked away again, narrowing his eyes and nudging his discarded bottle with the toe of his shoe. That was a lie and he knew it too. Katniss knew far more than he gave her credit for. She had been dealt a bad hand, just like the rest of them. But the difference was that she chose to fight where he had given up.

"You're welcome," he said finally, his shoulders sagging forward again in defeat. There was another moment of silence and he heard her feet shuffle across the carpet towards the door.

"See you for dinner," Katniss said over her shoulder, letting the door close behind her, leaving Haymitch once more alone with only his thoughts for company. He looked down at the towel he still gripped in his hand and nodded.

"Yeah, see you."


	2. Chapter 2

He was fashionably late, as usual. The tension that spanned the length of the chic table was palpable and spilled over to fill the rest of the open room. He had half a mind to turn around and slink right back to his room, but the more dominant and far more reckless half of his mind pushed him forward and right into a chair.

Peeta glowered at him from across the table and Effie dabbed delicately at the corners of her bright pink lips, her eyes fixed on her plate. Katniss pushed her food around with her fork, her eyes sweeping between Peeta and Haymitch with obvious apprehension. It was just as uncomfortable as he had anticipated it to be and he was glad he had cleaned himself up before facing them. Not that it did much else than help soothe his nerves, they never took him seriously.

Peeta was the first to break the silence and Haymitch dropped his napkin onto his lap. There were few instances in which he used his manners and this just happened to be one of them. He tried to seem indifferent but beneath the surface he was a wreck. His hands shook and his mouth was dry. The games hadn't even begun and already he could feel those invisible walls pressing down on him, holding him in and suffocating him.

"You had no right to do that," the words were thick with pure contempt although this time, Haymitch didn't flinch. He could face Peeta, of that he was quite confident. The baker boy was a delicate flower compared to the tornado seated silently beside him.

"I had every right," Haymitch corrected, pointing his fork at him as he shifted in his seat.

"No, you didn't!" He slammed his fist against the table and Effie let out a squeak as her water glass rattled. She inhaled sharply and withdrew her hands into her lap, choosing to remain on the sidelines for now. This was not her fight, not this time. "You really think I'm going to sit back and watch from the Capitol while you two are in there? I can't. Haymitch, you know I can't. I'm supposed to protect her. You're supposed to protect her!" Peeta was leaning over his plate now, his face turning a deep shade of red.

There was a brief pause as Haymitch glanced around the table before he nodded his head once. "Yeah. Yup, I do."

That was clearly not the answer the boy wanted to hear and his chair flew back and toppled over as he got to his feet, his eyes wild and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Haymitch looked nothing short of amused and he sat back, letting his elbow rest against the back of his chair. His eyebrow shot up and he waved a hand towards Peeta casually.

"Are you going to fight me, Peeta?" His voice was level and Peeta's chest heaved with every forced breath as his nostrils flared.

"Haymitch-" But Katniss was cut short as he got to his feet slowly, pulling from whatever liquid courage he had left. He smoothed down the front of his shirt and beckoned for Peeta to come towards him from across the table, taunting him.

"Come on, then. Let's get this over with," but Peeta made no move to advance towards Haymitch, choosing instead to seethe from where he stood. The veins in his neck looked ready to burst and Haymitch was silent for a moment longer before he sighed and dropped back down into his chair. "Thought so. Sit down, Peeta," It was a command and after a moment of hesitation, the boy turned to pick up his chair and drag it back to the table.

"I am protecting her, in case you didn't realize. And I'm protecting you. I can't babysit you both and I sure as hell can't work miracles. Look around you, kid, do you really think this was and by coincidence? The Quarter Quell just so happened to pull from the existing pool of victors the year after you two pull a stunt that creates uprising in the districts. Maybe you haven't realized it yet, but Snow isn't very fond of you."

"I saw him," Katniss finally spoke, clearing her throat as her voice broke. "President Snow. I saw him. He...came to visit me," she paused for a moment as if recalling the encounter took tremendous effort.

"He told me...he told me that I needed to convince him. That _we_ ," she looked to Peeta, "needed to convince him."

That was news to Haymitch, but it wasn't surprising. He had expected the old man to show up sooner, waving his threats around like a brilliantly colored banner of corruption and power. It was only a matter of time before the game came to an end with the Capitol in the victor seat. Snow was a dangerous man, especially when he could bend the rules to his will. No doubt these games were his doing too.

"You two barely look like you can stand each other let alone pass as star crossed lovers a second time. He isn't going to let there be two victors again. You both know that. I can't keep Katniss alive when she's busy chasing you down to do the same," he looked to Peeta. "So before you get yourself all worked up again, consider this a favor. Panem needs you alive. Both of you. I'm just here to make sure that happens."

"By risking your own life?" Katniss narrowed her eyes and once again, he was unable to meet her gaze. He was ashamed. Haymitch was no hero, not by a long shot. But he was trying to do the right thing for the first time in a very long time.

"Don't worry about me. This isn't my first time, either," he reminded her dryly. But it would be his last. It was bittersweet, he supposed.

"Now. If you'll excuse me...I would very much like to enjoy the rest of my meal in peace."


	3. Chapter 3

There was no such thing as peace once the train pulled into the Capitol. The sharp edges of the pristine buildings were softened by the soft glow of the sun, alluding to an air of calm. But even the air itself was electric, anticipating the celebrations that were soon to commence. Haymitch felt his stomach twist and turn as he dragged himself through the polished halls behind Effie. She was uncharacteristically silent and for once, he wished she would open her painted lips and let whatever nonsense she had bottled up inside just spill out of them. Anything would have been better than this strained silence. It thrummed in his ears and he held his breath, afraid that even that would be too loud.

Katniss and Peeta had gone ahead of them and they stood with arms crossed and taut faces, their disagreement having come to an end mere moments before. He should have been able to diffuse the situation with a crude comment, causing them both to roll their eyes and shake their heads, but he had nothing. His tongue felt like lead in his mouth and as he joined them he found that he could hardly look at either of them.

"Try to look a little more pleasant," Effie said finally, her own eyes were lowered as she brushed imaginary dirt from Peeta's shoulder. "You are in the Capitol now."

As if they needed the reminder.

He could hear the crowd roaring above them and he turned his gray eyes skyward. He tugged at the sleeves of his black jacket and ran his tongue nervously across his lips while trying to keep his spine straight. He felt out of place among the other victors in their elaborate costumes and he ducked around District 2 and headed towards the back of the line-up.

"There he is, the man of the hour," Finnick Odair smirked as he rolled a sugar cube around on the flat of his palm, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Black suits you, Haymitch," he added conversationally, shooting Katniss a glance.

"Think so? I'm wearing it for your funeral," Haymitch smoothed down the front of his black jacket and gave himself a silent congratulatory pat on the back for his quick thinking.

Finnick chuckled, though it held little humor. "Very thoughtful of you, Haymitch. Well, I guess we'll see each other later. My chariot awaits," with a wink he was gone and Haymitch frowned.

"Finnick Odair," he announced. His feelings regarding Finnick were his own and he neither liked nor disliked the man. Sure his lifestyle was a little too glamorous for Haymitch, but there was no denying that Finnick had a certain… _charm_ about him that worked in his favor. He was a master of his profession, if one would dare to call it that.

"Do you two know each other?" Katniss asked, arching an eyebrow as they climbed into the back of the chariot.

"Not well," he responded as he watched the other tributes take their respective places. "But I see you've been introduced."

His palms were sweating and he tried ghis best to wipe them against the smooth fabric of his black pants as they moved forward. They were still in the underbelly of the stadium and already the crowd was deafening. He fought the urge to cover his ears and cower.

"Relax," he blinked over at her in surprise, unaware that his discomfort was so obvious. Katniss seemed to search his face for a moment before turning her gaze forward again, her lips pressed into a thin line. He wished it was as easy as that to just… _relax_. He wanted to vomit all down the front of himself, but he swallowed it down and sucked in a deep breath.

 _They're just people, Haymitch. Get a grip on yourself_ , but it wasn't the people that made him nervous. No, he could handle people just fine. What made him nervous was knowing that this was officially the beginning of the end and that in a few short days he would be faced with the nightmare of the arena all over again.

District 9, District 10, District 11… He wondered how big of a scene it would cause if he were to turn and jump. The people of Panem wanted to see Katniss and Peeta, not Haymitch, and he wished he could have given them Peeta in his place, but he knew better. He knew that if Peeta were standing there instead of him that nothing good would come of it.

Her hand found his and he gave a small start, looking at her in confusion before the sunlight nearly blinded him. He lifted a hand before thinking better of it and let it fall back down to his side, staring stony faced at the chariots ahead of them instead. It was all she could do to comfort him for now and he would have to thank her later, if he was sober enough to remember.

Her expression was solid and one of determination as her eyes swept through the crowd and she released his hand to set herself aflame. The rippled that moved through the spectators was one of pure awe and Haymitch reluctantly followed suit, feeling like a fool in his burning costume. He didn't belong there. In fact, Haymitch didn't feel like he belonged much of anywhere anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

He could feel fingers snaking around his limbs like vines, constricting and tugging. He clawed wildly at the dirt, scratching at the rocks until his fingers bled but it made no difference. They were going to take him. Every scream made his throat rough like sandpaper and he choked on the thick air, his lungs burning with every breath. He was going to die.

Beads of sweat ran down his face, dropping off the end of his chin and mixing with the blood and the dirt. Blood?

He looked up as it filled his mouth, metallic and warm, and he tried to spit it back out but the fingers still pulled him downward. He could hear their screams like sharp knives in his ears and he struggled to free himself. They were calling his name with their shrill voices, begging for mercy and he tried to kick himself free. He could still save them. He could...he could…

"Haymitch!" He woke with a start, gasping for breath as his eyes flew open. His hand jerked for the knife beneath his pillow before he stopped himself, blinking in confusion at the shadow that looked over him. He knew that silhouette and his hand fell short as he closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, steadying his ragged breathing.

"What?" He finally managed to rasp. He wanted to be alone and his throat burned from the night before. Already his head was pounding and he could feel his body beginning to panic. The sheets were too soft and the room smelled faintly of vanilla and cinnamon. He was in the Capitol, he had almost forgotten.

"Get up," her voice sounded strained as she yanked the blankets off of him, causing goosebumps to rise along his arms. "We have training in an hour. You already missed breakfast. I've been shaking you for ten minutes."

"Great," he forced his eyes open again, ignoring the sharp ache that began to form just behind them. He blinked a few times, bringing the room into focus slowly. Sunlight spilled in from between his tightly drawn curtains and stretched across the floor. Breakfast he could do without, but the training was not something he particularly cared to participate in. Already he could feel the anxiety bubbling up in the pit of his stomach and he wanted to lean over a little further and vomit onto the soft carpet.

"I'm up," he announced. She stood just out of sight but he could feel her watching him and it made him incredibly uncomfortable. It was as though she could see right through him and he wished he could shield himself with the oversized comforter. But he was too tired and his ears still rang with the echoes of distant and dying screams. All he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep for several more hours, or at least until all of this was over.

"You were having a nightmare," Katniss paused and he offered her no acknowledgement that he had heard her but she continued. "It's okay, you know...I get them too," her voice was quiet and he closed his eyes, remaining silent for another moment.

"Yeah, I know," Haymitch murmured finally, clearing his throat.

"Being here makes them worse," she was moving closer and he felt the bed give as she sat on the edge. "Sometimes I think I'm just crazy. I still feel guilty sometimes...for winning."

Haymitch listened, his fingers curling into fists against his cheek as he debated on answering her. He knew the feeling all too well but he couldn't find any words for her, at least none that would make things any more bearable.

"You earned it," Haymitch said with a sigh as he forced himself to sit up against his pillows to look at her. "You fought like hell to stay alive and keep Peeta alive too. That was no easy feat. The kid has a death wish."

"So did you," she responded easily.

"I didn't do anything. I just taught you how to use your head instead of-"

"I meant that you earned it too," Katniss corrected, catching him off guard. Haymitch stopped mid-sentence, his mouth open and his eyes wide. That wasn't what he had been expecting to hear and for a moment he was stunned into silence. It wasn't very often that he was rendered speechless.

He closed his mouth and looked down at the skin of his rough hands, turning them over thoughtfully. He couldn't agree with her. Not even a little bit. He hadn't been brave or inspirational. He had been scared, desperate and fallen into some dumb luck. There were tributes far more worthy of the title than he, but somehow he survived and they hadn't and now he was going to have to go through it all over again.

Her hand settled on his arm and he pulled away as if he had been burned. The small jolt of electricity had startled him and he lifted his gaze to her face, searching for an apology but her expression told him that he didn't need one. She looked just as surprised and color flushed her cheeks as she looked away.

"It'll be okay," she said quickly, composing herself as she stood up in a rush. "We're a team. Whatever Snow's plan is, it won't work. You should get ready. I'll see you in a little bit," and before he could take any more time to think about that strange sensation, she was gone and the room seemed much more empty and cold all of a sudden.


	5. Chapter 5

"You're still supposed to be in love," he reminded her flatly. "So when you go out there, you need to act like it. Be heartbroken. Shed some tears, I really don't care. Just because Snow sees through you doesn't mean that the rest of them do. They love you. Peeta isn't here to set the stage for you, you're on your own."

"And what are you going to say?" She asked sharply, her face sparkling beneath the layers of makeup and glitter. He studied the dramatic outline of her eyes and the carefully constructed pout of her lips. "I know what I'm doing, Haymitch."

He swallowed hard and pulled himself away from the distraction. He preferred the plain Katniss to the Capitol Katniss by far, but he had to admit that she had a certain sultry charm about her now that he had never noticed before. The dress that Cinna had designed for her accentuated every curve of her body and his hands itched to run over them. What the hell? What was he even thinking? Again, he wasn't thinking and that was where the problem began.

"Yeah, I've heard that before and look where it got you," his voice sounded hoarse and he cleared his throat. "Don't worry about what I have to say. I'm going to play into your little love charade," he smoothed down the front of his ash gray jacket. The collar was too high and too tight, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

She eyed him skeptically for a moment as the space around them continued to empty. One tribute after another took to the stage, their voices drifted through the air as their faces flashed brightly on the screen. Haymitch stood with his arms folded across his chest and he fished a mint from his pocket. He had successfully tracked down something strong enough to get him through the ordeal without vomiting. His hands were steady and his shoulders were relaxed.

He was up next and as Caesar began his segue, Haymitch turned towards her one final time. "Remember to play the part," he whispered harshly as they hurried him forward.

The lights on the stage were blinding and he squinted for a moment. The audience was cast in a dark shadow but he could feel their eyes burning into him. The air was filled with disappointment that their beloved Peeta was not shaking hands with their gracious host and Haymitch settled himself onto the edge of the chair. It looked much more comfortable from afar and he shifted uncomfortably, hitching up his pant leg just a little as Caesar began to speak.

"Haymitch, it's been twenty-five years since you were crowned victor. How does it feel to be back?"

Haymitch stared at the man. Twenty-five years. His eyes swept across the audience again. He doubted that many of them remembered him and his time spent in the arena. He was the mentor of their two favorite tributes, but none of them cared to learn how he had fallen into that role and he had never bothered to remind them.

After a moment he realized that they were still waiting for his answer and so he cleared his throat and leaned forward, "It feels…I haven't decided yet," he answered honestly. It felt terrifying to be back, but he couldn't very well share that little secret with them.

Caesar gave a theatrical chuckle. "The last time you were here, you called the games, and I quote, ' _stupid_.' Surely you don't feel the same way all these years later."

Haymitch forced a smile. "I was a kid, everything was stupid. I can't say my opinion has changed much."

"Well, there you have it! Now! I think it's safe to say that everyone was expecting someone else to be in your seat this evening," there was a pause and a murmur rippled through the audience. "Peeta Mellark," the name alone brought forth excited clapping and a few whistles. Haymitch fidgeted uncomfortably.

"You volunteered in Peeta's place, Haymitch. It was very unexpected."

Haymitch almost gave a snort. Unexpected was an understatement. He had hardly known what he was doing when he lifted his hand and stepped forward that day, hushing Panem in an instant. He was silent for a moment. This was his time to feed on their devotion and love for Peeta and Katniss but he didn't want to make himself sound like some self-righteous hero. He wasn't. Not even a little bit.

"It was unexpected for me too, Caesar," he admitted, eliciting a laugh from the audience.

"So why…did you do it?"

"Because I knew I couldn't stand to watch them sacrifice for one another like that again," the words tasted strange on his tongue but he tried to ignore them. He had to get through this.

"And you think you can somehow save Katniss during the games?" Caesar asked, arching a carefully penciled eyebrow.

"We shouldn't even be competing in these games, to be honest with you, Caesar, but I can try," he responded easily, glancing out towards the audience again. "Not that the other tributes will make it easy for me, I'm sure," there was another laugh. His throat was dry and he shifted again in his seat. He could feel his collar dampening with sweat and he ran his tongue across his bottom lip quickly.

"What they have is…something special. It's moved all of us – inspired us. I know it's inspired me," Caesar made a sympathetic noise and turned to face the audience with his hand over his heart. He could feel eyes on him and without looking he knew they belonged to Peeta. He could picture him clenching his jaw and narrowing his eyes towards the stage, glaring at Haymitch from the shadows.

"Yes, an inspiration to us all. We can't wait to see what the games have in store for you and your heroic endeavors," the words were followed by applause and Haymitch nodded his head in acknowledgement, forcing another smile as he turned to wave towards the crowd. It was a brief interview if only because even Caesar Flickerman was eager to get to the star of the show and Haymitch was glad for the urgency.

"And now, the tribute you've all been waiting to see… The Girl on Fire from District 12 that stole the hearts of Panem in the 74th Hunger Games…Katniss Everdeen!"

The roar of the crowd was like a thunderous wave as Haymitch took his leave of the stage, running a finger in between his high collar and his neck to get some air. He was suffocating in those ridiculous clothes and he wanted to trade them for his loose slacks and worn shirt.

He listened to the painful interview as Katniss stumbled over her words, constructing a story that held true to the tale they had been spinning for quite some time now. They had planned to marry and live out their days together in District 12 and blah, blah, blah… he wasn't impressed with her responses, no one really ever was. But her actions spoke far louder than her words did and to Panem, _that_ was what mattered. Peeta was the sweet talker, Katniss was selfless and unpredictable.

"…and what do you think of going into these games without Peeta?" There was silence following the question and Haymitch could see her struggling. He pressed his lips into a thin line and curled his hand into a fist, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other.

"Part of me is relieved. The other part knows I'll miss him," she said finally.

"Relieved?" Caesar prompted.

"I know he'll be safe," Katniss corrected. "I won't have to worry about him getting hurt in there. What Haymitch did for us was…well, it was brave and I don't think Peeta or I will ever be able to repay him."

Haymitch blinked. There would be no need to repay him, certainly not if he ended up being just another face in the sky and a canon blast. He wished he could tell her more, but there was nothing else he could offer her. He was doing this for her. That was the bottom line. Sure, Peeta mattered. But in the end it had everything to do with Katniss Everdeen. Not only was she the face of their cause, but Haymitch wasn't too sure what he would do without her.

She was the only person that ever dared to challenge him and the only one that for whatever strange and twisted reason, saw that there was more to him. She believed in him, as crazy as it sounded and he believed in her. The foul taste in his mouth earlier had been jealousy and it was a flavor he had not tasted in a very very long time.

Haymitch felt her fingers curl around his and he didn't bother to object as he raised his arm as a final farewell from the tributes and to solidify their unity against the Capitol. Tomorrow they would fight to the death, they would shed blood and they would show no mercy. But they would never forget the injustice that had befallen each and every one of them. For Haymitch, he still bore the scars of injustice from twenty-five years ago and he was more than ready for the Capitol to suffer just the same.


	6. Chapter 6

The glass capsule felt like a cage and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Twice he had swallowed down his own vomit and his stomach churned in anxious anticipation. His throat burned and his hands trembled. Effie had warned him and he had dismissed her with a wave of his hand, but now he wished he would have heeded her warnings instead.

The platform began to rise and his stomach dropped as he tilted his head back and closed his eyes. This was it. There was nothing he could do from this point forward except survive and that was a challenge all in itself. He was a glutton for punishment these days.

Haymitch squinted against the blinding light as the platform clicked into place and his body swayed. The sunlight was blinding and he blinked as his eyes adjusted. For a moment he was disoriented and confused and his eyes searched the faces for her, finding her just across the way. He swallowed hard but before he could do much more, the ring erupted into pandemonium as tributes launched themselves from their platforms.

He was paralyzed for a moment, watching as they paddled through the water and again he looked for her, but she was gone. Haymitch swore under his breath and dove in. He pumped his arms as he cut through the water. It was obvious now that he had most certainly let himself go over the years. He wasn't as young and agile as he had been twenty-five years ago.

He reached the edge of the Cornucopia and hauled himself up and out of the water. His hair was plastered to his forehead and he wiped at his eyes as he glanced around. Katniss was nowhere to be found.

A blood curdling scream from his left sent him ducking and dashing towards the opening of the Cornucopia.

"Haymitch!" The sound of his name startled him and he snatched up the first weapon he could find, curling his fingers around the handle and rolling onto his back. The tip of the trident flashed as it hurled over him, lodging itself into one of the tributes. Finnick leapt over Haymitch to retrieve his trident as the man pulled himself to his feet.

His head was pounding and the knife felt heavy in his hand. "Katniss?" He asked and Finnick jerked his chin towards the thick foliage across the water from them. Haymitch tightened his jaw and nodded, shaking his wet hair as he skirted around the bloodbath and jumped back into the water. The screams and shouts were drowned out as he submerged himself in the cool water and paddled to the shore.

His body ached as he dragged himself onto the sand and sputtered. Finnick was already disappearing into the trees and Haymitch clawed his way up further before getting to his feet. He was never going to survive this, not if he already felt this terrible.

He doubled over to cough up a mouthful of water before forcing himself forward after Finnick. He barreled through the brush and nearly collided with another body doubled over, panting for breath. Mags inspected Finnick as he leaned against a tree, shaking his head as she poked and prodded at him and Haymitch's gaze found Katniss.

"Haymitch," her breathless sigh of relief sent a shiver down his spine and he waved her back as she rushed towards him.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," he assured her, swallowing hard as he pushed more hair from his face. "Are you…?"

"No, I'm fine too," she glanced warily at the other pair and Haymitch shook his head.

"It's fine. They're...fine. I took the liberty of forming alliances for us," he shrugged as he straightened up, wincing as his muscles constricted in protest.

"You could have told me," her eyes flared for a moment and Haymitch raised an eyebrow.

"You would have ruined it by saying something you shouldn't have. You aren't very good at pretending, my dear," he informed her flatly as he clapped her on the shoulder and moved past her. "We should keep moving. We're still too close to the beach."

The air was thick and sweat quickly replaced the water on their skin. It was suffocating and uncomfortable, but they pressed forward, moving further into the arena and away from the center. Their pace had slowed considerably over the last few hours, bringing their progress to a painful crawl.

"We need to stop," Katniss announced finally. "Here. We should be fairly well hidden by these trees," There was no objection as Mags slid from Finnick's back and he stretched his sore muscles. As the two from District 4 settled in to rest, Katniss fell back to Haymitch.

His breathing was labored and he clutched at a stitch in his side, wincing more with every step. His body was falling apart from the inside out and he threw himself against the trunk of a tree, sliding down to the ground with a loud thump.

"You expect me to trust you when all you've done is kept secrets," she hissed, squatting down in front of him. He let his head fall back and closed his eyes.

"You act like you're a saint," Haymitch commented coolly. She was silent for a moment and he heard her shift to kneel in the soft dirt instead. Even with his eyes closed he could picture her-hair plastered to her forehead, her eyes narrowed in thought and anger and her lips pressed into a thin and disapproving line. He sighed in content and turned his head to the side.

"What do you want to know?" He asked finally.

"Why didn't you tell me about the alliance?"

"Like I said, you aren't very good at playing dumb, Katniss. I knew you wouldn't have agreed anyway. I could tell by your tone that you never trusted Finnick. Not as far as you could throw him. But we need him. I trust him well enough to help keep you alive," he explained slowly.

"I still don't trust him. I don't trust any of them," she mumbled. "And why are you so insistent on keeping me alive?"

He opened his eyes again and turned his head to stare at her. "You have no idea what you mean to people, do you? You have no idea how many people are fighting for you," Haymitch shook his head. "You mean more than you know. You stand for more than you know."

Katniss was silent again, her eyes searching his face as she tried to grasp at the meaning of his words. He could see her struggling and he looked away. She would never know what she meant-she would never understand.

"We should rest here for the night. We'll never make it if we keep going," Finnick announced, pushing himself to his feet and picking up his trident. "In the meantime, we should try to find food and water."

Katniss glanced at Haymitch before getting to her feet. "Leave the food up to me," she reached behind her to adjust the quiver of arrows slung across her back. "Doesn't the-"

"It's supposed to," Haymitch cut her off, cringing as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "But it didn't this time. We're entirely on our own for food."

Finnick grunted and turned away. Wordlessly, Haymitch extended a hand towards Katniss and after a moment of deliberation, she reached out to help him to his feet. "I'm coming with you." There was no room for argument and she narrowed her eyes before turning and pushing back through the brush the way they had come. He couldn't hunt. He was no good, but he wasn't going to let her out of his sight.

His breath came in short puffs and his hands trembled. His knees knocked together with every step and he watched the distance between them grow. How many hours had it been since he had had a drink? He should have taken care of this earlier, but he hadn't. He had needed as much booze as he could get his hands on to keep himself together: he was back in the arena.

Haymitch wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm and blinked, running his tongue nervously over his lips. The greens of the trees began to blur into one and he stumbled, catching himself and shaking his head.

 _Pull it together, Haymitch,_ he scolded himself. He stumbled again and this time two arms shot out to grab him, pinning him against a tree.

"Haymitch. Haymitch! Look at me," the panic in her voice caused his heart to beat faster in alarm. He blinked at her. Everything was too much and he felt overwhelmed. The panic and dread of being in the area coupled with his withdrawal and crumbling health was too much. He never should have volunteered, he never should have been the noble one. What was she to him, anyway? Anyone could have been the face of the rebellion. Hell, Finnick could have played the part. But no, he knew that wasn't true. He knew that it _had_ to be her.

She was speaking again and he barely caught her words, "...withdrawal...warned me...should have known...foolish…" He followed the movement of her lips, distracted by them. If he could just...no!

He pushed away from her. "I'm fine," he snapped. "The heat...it's messing with my head. I just...need a minute. I'm fine. Let's go. Standing in one spot for too long makes us a target," he averted his gaze as he moved past her, dragging a hand through his damp hair.

"Fine. I was just trying to help you," she sounded wounded by his harsh tone and he looked over his shoulder at her.

"That's great but I don't need your help. You should worry about yourself more and less about me."

"You keep telling me that. What are you afraid of? Why won't you let anyone care about you?" She matched her stride with his, her eyes burning into him.

He felt it snap inside of him. The glue that held him together was coming undone and he rounded on her. "Because caring about me got people killed. I don't deserve it. I made the wrong people very angry and they punished me by killing the people I loved. Since then I've been on my own and it's going to stay that way. It's better. I have no weakness. I have nothing left they can take from me."

She was quiet and the small clearing around them had grown uncomfortably still. He heard her sharp intake of breath and he ground his teeth together as he looked away. "After the games...after what you did…"

"Snow didn't like it," his voice was softer now. "I outsmarted him. He couldn't punish me publicly, it would look bad on him: killing my family. But I knew. I've seen too many good people die. Kids...I couldn't do anything for them. It was easier not to know them so when I watched them die it wasn't so hard. There would be another one...and another and then you and Peeta came along and everything changed."

"I know...about Snow, I mean. Peeta and I…" she trailed off, almost ashamed to admit it out loud.

"I figured as much," he shrugged. Truly, he wasn't surprised and he didn't mind nearly as much as he thought he would have. They had a right to know, after all.

"You can't keep pushing me away, Haymitch. We're in this together. We need each other whether you want to admit that or not. You need me and I...I need you," she reached for his hand and he held his breath, anticipating the same sensation he had felt when she had touched him before. Such a simple gesture and yet it was so powerful that it frightened him.

But the feeling never came. Instead he felt numb shock rippling through his body from his head to his toes. His eyes widened in surprise and his knees buckled, sending him crashing to the ground. The blade had cut into his skin just beneath his shoulder blade and he hadn't even had the chance to cry out. Katniss moved in slow motion as she stood over him, loosing a rapid fire of arrows into the trees.

"Haymitch! Haymitch, stay with me! Don't you dare close your eyes!"

But he could feel his consciousness slipping away as the numbness was replaced with a searing white hot pain. Keeping his eyes open used too much energy and he let them slide shut, blocking out the rest of the world and her frantic cries.


	7. Chapter 7

He was dead−except, maybe not. Death wasn't supposed to be so uncomfortable. His body was on fire and the searing pain traveled from his spine all the way down to his toes. A thick layer of sweat coated his skin and he could feel his hair sticking to his forehead. He was uncomfortable _and_ miserable.

With a groan he forced his eyes open and was greeted with a gray haze. There had been light before he had lost consciousness, he remembered that much. Dusk was upon them and he let his head fall back against the leaves. Someone had fashioned a bed for him from the moss and leaves, but the hard ground beneath him was still as unforgiving as it had always been.

He tried to sit up but a sound startled him and he remained still. It took him a moment to realize that the sound had come from his own mouth and he stared up at the thick canopy of trees. He could barely move and even the slightest movement of his toes sent his body into another violent and painful spasm.

Gentle fingers began to poke and prod at him and he lifted his head just enough to peer at the wild mane of gray hair. Her wrinkled face was screwed up in concentration as she checked him over and gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Mags," he breathed her name and nodded once before letting his head fall back again. Mags was a good woman, he thought to himself as his head fell to the side and he struggled to keep his eyes open.

He heard another voice over him, one that he recognized as Finnick's but he lacked the energy to respond. At least they were alright.

After a moment he realized that one very important voice was missing and his eyes flew open. _Katniss_. Haymitch turned his head frantically from one side to the other but she was nowhere to be found and against his better judgment he tried to sit up again as another growl of pain tore itself from his chest. Finnick was shouting over his shoulder, but Haymitch ignored him as his fingernails cut into the soft dirt and he gasped for air. His lungs felt heavy and bright bubbles of color popped behind his eyes. _Katniss, where is Katniss?_ He wanted to demand an answer, but he was afraid to open his mouth−afraid that he might pass out or vomit, or both.

Two small hands pressed against his shoulders and her voice sounded miles away as his body began to still. "Haymitch! Haymitch, relax. It's alright. You're alright. Breathe," her voice cracked as her wide eyes took him in and lines of worry creased her forehead. His chest was heaving with his labored breathing and he reached up to grip her by the arms, holding himself steady as his hammering heart began to slow to a normal rhythm. Beads of sweat rolled down his pale face and he ran his tongue across his dry and cracked lips.

"Relax," she said again, softer this time. Finnick spoke again but Haymitch wasn't listening and Katniss nodded. Mags gave them both a smile and touched Haymitch on the cheek before she stood and left them. "You scared me," she admitted in a low voice once the others had gone. "I thought you were…" _Dead_.

There was a strange emotion in her words that he couldn't place and his hold on her arms loosened as his shoulders slumped forward and he wiped the sweat from his brow. "You can't get…that lucky," he rasped and the corner of her mouth twisted upward into a thin smile.

"They were waiting for someone to stumble into that clearing. They had it surrounded−the Careers, I mean. I got one, wounded another and by the time Finnick got there the rest were scattering deeper into the trees," she explained as she shifted to sit cross-legged on the ground beside him.

"Good thing you had your human shield on hand then, hm?" Haymitch asked as he moved his legs, cringing and hissing in pain. No, he wasn't dead. But they had done a number on him. His hands still shook, but he didn't have the constant urge to vomit. Perhaps the excessive sweating was working in his favor, despite how uncomfortable it made him.

"Haymitch, if anything had happened to you because of me, I never would've−"

"You still don't get it, do you?" He asked as he looked up at her again. She blinked at him and shook her head, but before she could open her mouth to speak he pressed on. "Me? I'm expendable. Just like Finnick and the others. They know it too. They know what has to be done. The only person that needs to get out of this damned arena is you, Katniss Everdeen. I don't know how many more times I have to tell you that before you'll understand."

"But what's the point of getting out of here if everyone else has to die because of it?" She asked, shaking her head again. "I don't want that. I don't want people dying for me."

"You don't really have a choice, do you?" Haymitch arched an eyebrow. "Everyone knows what we're fighting for. I know what I'm fighting for."

"And what are you fighting for?"

He looked down at his dirt covered hands before looking back up at her. For a moment he was silent, choosing instead to lose himself in those wide eyes of hers. They pulled him in and drowned him like the tide and he was powerless against them. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled, his lips turning upward in a somber smile. "You." The word was out before he could stop himself and he watched the shock pass over her before she slipped into something else, something that resembled admiration and confusion.

"You two get some rest, I'll keep first watch," Finnick's sudden voice caused them both to jump and Katniss leapt to her feet.

"I won't sleep anyway," she said, brushing the dirt from her jumpsuit and turning to face the man, keeping her back to Haymitch. Finnick was silent for a moment as he looked between the two of them before he offered a shrug and turned to take his seat again near Mags.

"Get some sleep. I'll wake you when it's time to move again," she said over her shoulder before going to join the others a few yards away.

He couldn't have slept even if he had wanted to and instead he settled for closing his eyes and listening to the hushed whispers from Katniss and Finnick. He couldn't make out their words and he didn't really care to, he was just grateful their voices kept the eerie silence at bay. He wasn't sure how much time had passed but the faces of the dead had long since flashed across the sky and Katniss and Finnick had fallen quiet. The only sound was his own shallow breathing and it rang in his ears. Leaves rustled up above and he inhaled deeply. Even for the arena it was quiet−too quiet and he forced his eyes open. He pushed himself up again with effort, his joints popping in protest as his muscles constricted.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness but he saw her stand and step forward. He squinted and blinked, trying to clear his cloudy vision but after a moment he realized that his vison was not the problem and that a heavy fog was rolling towards them. Finnick ad Mags were stirring now too and Katniss stretched out a hand, her fingers barely grazing the mist before she let out a yelp and jumped back, clutching her hand and spinning around.

"Run… _Run!_ " Finnick snapped, grabbing her by the arm to yank her back further as Mags scrambled onto his back. Everything was happening so fast and Haymitch barely had time to blink before Katniss was hauling him to his feet despite his cries of pain.

"We have to go," she insisted, wrapping an arm around his waist as she hurried him forward. He felt lightheaded and queasy again, but he swallowed down his urge to vomit and bit down hard on his bottom lip. Poisonous fog; he had to hand it to them this time, they were clever bastards.

"Come on, _move_ ," she urged, glancing over her shoulder. Finnick and Mags were just ahead of them, but even they were struggling and the fog was rumbling towards them. Haymitch could feel the sweat pooling around his neck and he hobbled along faster. He was slowing her down.

"Katniss, I can't…" He grunted as the fogged lapped at his legs.

"You can. You have to!" She was half-dragging him forward and he shook his head. Finnick and Mags were slowing considerably and even he could see the man struggling. None of them were going to make it. "Finnick! I can't…"

Ugly blisters and boils bubbled up on their skin as they all looked over their shoulders. "Leave me behind. Just go," Haymitch insisted.

"No, we can't," Her voice rose an octave and she grabbed him by the arm but he pulled away.

"Finnick," Haymitch knew he would see reason and there was a pregnant pause as they considered one another. Finnick inhaled deeply and nodded once, reaching for Mags. The old woman pulled away and shook her head and alarm flashed across Finnick's face.

"Mags, come on. We have to go," he urged. They were wasting precious time.

Mags shook her head and looked back at the rolling fog. She stared at Finnick for a moment and with a smile she stepped forward and took his face in her wrinkles hands. Haymitch looked away as she kissed him and pulled away, nodding once and giving Katniss a fond smile, she turned and walked directly towards the fog. It swallowed her tiny body whole and Finnick made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. He wrapped an arm around Haymitch's middle and they rushed forward, the fog licking at their heels and stinging at their skin.

He wasn't sure which one of them toppled over the embankment first, but they all rolled down and landed in a heap. Their cries of agony muddled together and if no one had known their whereabouts, they certainly did now. All he wanted to do was stop the burning and he crawled towards the water, clawing his way through the mud. His vision was blurred and the world spun and in that moment he cared little about whether or not he would drown in the shallow pond. The cool water bit at his skin and he was close to tears. He heard her voice from somewhere on his right and he forced himself to turn his head.

Katniss was scrubbing furiously at her own skin and shouting. Finnick followed suit and they splashed around, panting heavily as they cleaned the poison from their skin. It took Haymitch a moment longer to get his body into the water, but when he did, he had never been more relieved in his forty-one years. He wasn't sure he could take much more and he sat up and watched Katniss and Finnick hauling themselves out of the water and back onto the muddy bank. He couldn't move−he didn't want to move. He just needed a moment to compose himself and get his bearings.

That was twice he had escaped death and he was beginning to wonder what strange force was on his side and so determined to keep him alive. But maybe that didn't matter. Mags was gone, no thanks to them and they were still no closer to fighting their way out of the arena. He ran his hands through his wet hair and exhaled. They needed to regroup, and quickly.


End file.
